


Permission Denied

by orphan_account



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Gen, dark!glorfindel, dub con, golden moles - Freeform, non con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-12 22:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20572295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dark!Glorfindel and Maeglin at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad.





	Permission Denied

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with the idea for “gagged dub-con while in a tent” while I was writing [Flaming](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20289826/chapters/48099472), but ended up abandoning because I couldn’t figure out how to put it into the story.
> 
> So here’s a dark!Glorfindel and Maeglin set during the Nirnaeth Arnoediad.

“You aren’t meant to be here.”

He’d been waiting for Maeglin to enter the tent, sitting in the shadows where even the dark elf’s eyes wouldn’t notice him.

When he heard Glorfindel’s voice, the Lord of the House of the Mole froze. “My lord,” he murmured, inclining his head slightly. “My uncle has given me permission to be here.”

“You left him no choice, little mole,” he retorted, motioning for Maeglin to step forward.

“But I have his permission nonetheless.”

“You did not have mine,” Glorfindel pulled him into his lap, forcing the smith to wrap his legs around his waist. “Am I not your lover?”

“You are!” Maeglin said quickly, running his hands over the golden elf’s chest. “I-”

“Hush,” Glorfindel snapped. “It’s clear you don’t know who you belong to. I suppose I’ll have to remind you.”

“My lord-”

“Quiet.” He pushed Maeglin off his lap, then drug him to his cot.

The smith struggled under him, but Glorfindel ignored his pleas, buckling his own belt through the smith’s mouth to silence him. “What shall I do with you?” he murmured into his ear. “I can’t push you too far, not with the battle tomorrow.”

He pulled Maeglin’s pants down to his knees, then tightened the belt to hold his legs together. It would make it more difficult to access his ass, but it would take away some of his fight.

Fortunately, Maeglin was extremely flexible, and Glorfindel folded him in half, exposing his hole, with little resistance from his muscles. “You will pleasure me tonight,” he said, pushing an oil-slicked finger into Maeglin’s hole. “And when the battle is won you will return to me for your punishment. Am I understood?”

Maeglin nodded quickly.

He took more care to stretch him than he usually did, not wanting to risk leaving him unable to fight, and when he pressed inside, Maeglin moaned around the gag. “Slut,” Glorfindel taunted, thrusting inside him roughly.

Maeglin winced with each thrust, but it was clear by his erection he was enjoying himself, at least someone. The golden lord didn’t care either way if Maeglin liked what he was doing to him, but he couldn’t help but run his hands across the other’s cock, just enough to make him shiver.

“Perhaps I should leave you trussed up in my tent,” he said, gripping Maeglin’s head with his hands. Beneath him, the smith looked livid at the suggestion. “Oh, it would be so lovely to return to you after the battle, hot and sweaty from exertion to plow into your pliable ass.”

He bit Maeglin’s neck again. “Would you like that, little mole?”

Maeglin shook his head quickly. He tried to wriggle away, but Glorfindel kept a tight grip on him, continuing to fuck him roughly. “You would be a sweet victory feast,” he murmured. “How long has it been since you sucked me, hmm?”

He was painfully close, and he stopped talking, focusing instead on claiming as much of Maeglin as he could. Finally, he came, spurting into his partner, then laying on top of him until he could catch his breath.

Between them, Maeglin was still painfully hard.

Glorfindel ignored his cock as he pulled out. He took an unusual amount of time wiping between Maeglin’s asscheeks with a cloth, but still refusing to offer him the release he so desperately needed.

The smith whined and bucked his hips, trying desperately to get Glorfindel’s attention. “No,” he said softly. “You may stay like that. I’ll untie you in a few hours - I won’t keep you from the battle - but you won’t get a release from me.”

* * *

The battle was over, although it was difficult to say they’d won.

The forces of Gondolin had been vastly unprepared for a true battle, too used to their safety in a hidden city, and so they’d sustained the heaviest losses. He was still brimming with anger at Morgoth when he sent word for Maeglin to join him in his tent.

“My lord wished to see me?” Maeglin asked, his dark eyes glinting.

“I believe you owe me something, little smith,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

Maeglin stepped closer, although it was clear he wished to disappear into the dark shadows at the edge of his tent. “I-”

“Tell me, did you get the glory you wanted?” Maeglin flinched but said nothing. “Are enough of your men dead?” Glorfindel pressed.

It was clear he wasn’t going to get a responce out of his victim, so Glorfindel snapped, “Strip.”

Maeglin lowered his head as he obeyed. “Perhaps my lord would prefer to punish me once we return home?” he asked, looking up hopefully.

He raised an eyebrow. “That is not such a bad idea,” he replied. “I suppose I can do both, if that is what you wish, little mole.”

Clearly that hadn’t been what he meant, and Maeglin winced. “As my lord wishes.”

Once Maeglin was naked, Glorfindel motioned for him to step forward. “My hand or my belt?” he asked, trailing his hand down Maeglin’s chest.

“Whatever would please you,” Maeglin replied, trembling slightly.

“Good,” he praised, tweaking his nipple. “This is what you are going to do: you are going to lie down on your back on my table, then spread your legs and hold your feet above your head. Am I understood?”

“Yes, my lord.” He didn’t even have to order Maeglin to repeat what he had said, the smith had long since learned what was expected of him. “I will lie on my back on the table, and spread my legs and hold my feet over my head.”

“Go.”

He’d cleared off the small table in his tent before summoning Maeglin, so the smith jumped onto it easily enough, spreading his legs and exposing his genitals.

Glorfindel walked to stand over him, resting his hand on Maeglin’s balls. “Are you sorry for what you’ve done?”

“I still believe I’ve done the right thing.”

He shook his head. “Very well.” Glorfindel picked up Maeglin’s heavy leather belt from where the smith had dropped it and folded it in half. “Do try to stay quiet, unless you want the entire camp to know I’m whipping you.”

He struck the strap against Maeglin’s inner thigh and the smith jumped. Clearly it had stung more than he’d been expecting. Or perhaps he hadn’t thought Glorfindel was actually going to go through with it.

“My lord, a question?”

“Ask,” he said, almost sounding bored as he landed another strike.

“I will have to ride tomorrow.”

Glorfindel smiled. “Oh, believe me, I know. I’m quite looking forward to the show you’re going to put on.” He leaned over Maeglin, pressing his lips to the smaller elf’s ear. “Once I’ve whipped your thighs, I’m going to take your ass,” he murmured. “And then you’re going to wear a plug until the next time we make camp.”

Maeglin squeaked. “My lord, please-”

“Shhh,” Glorfindel pinched his balls. “Don’t think about it,” he soothed, “focus on how much pain you’re in now, now how much pain you will be in tomorrow.”

“Yes, my lord.” 

He resumed the whipping, landing strike after strike on Maeglin’s thighs. The smaller elf shook but managed to keep his legs in place. He knew the consequences if he failed.

Once his thighs were sufficiently red, Glorfindel paused. For a long moment, it seemed he was going to set the belt aside, but then he struck it across the smith’s balls.

Maeglin cried out, then quickly covered his mouth.

“Keep your voice down,” he snarled. “Or I will gag you again.”

Maeglin grit his teeth, trying hard not to cry out as the other continued whipping him, focusing his strikes on his exposed asshole.

But it seemed he couldn’t keep control of his mouth, so Glorfindel stopped what he was doing to thread a belt through the other’s mouth.

Finally, he sat the belt aside and let Maeglin lower his legs. The smith was trembling before Glorfindel reached for the oil, and when he saw it, he whined around the gag. “Would you prefer I didn’t stretch you?” he asked.

He wasn’t as thorough as he had been the last time, and Maeglin sobbed when his cock breached him. Glorfindel set a brutal pace, slamming into Maelgin’s sore hole and digging his nails into his red thighs.

He finished in silence, spurting into Maeglin’s sore ass as the smith sobbed silently. Then he reached up and jerked Maeglin off with cool precision.

When it was finished, Glorfindel removed the gag and pulled Maeglin into his arms, rubbing his back and cooing to him soothingly. “There now,” he murmured. “Aren’t you sorry?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Do you remember what happens now?”

“My lord, please, do not-”

But Glorfindel already had the plug in his hand, and as Maeglin whimpered in his lap, he slipped it slowly inside. “What if I need to relieve myself?” he whimpered.

The golden elf only laughed. “Hold it.”

* * *

Maeglin’s horse mysteriously turned up lame the next day. He would be fine, of course, but carrying a rider was out of the question.

So Glorfindel graciously offered to let Maeglin ride with him, pointing out that his horse could easily manage an armored rider, so two riders without armor would be nothing.

The smith hadn’t been able to refuse the offer, not in front of everyone, so he allowed himself to be helped into the saddle, wincing as his sore legs rubbed the leather.

“Enjoying yourself?” Glorfindel murmured.

“No, my lord.”

Maeglin sat stiffly through the ride, but the pain was clearly wearing on him as the day dragged on. When they stopped for a break midday, Maeglin didn’t even want to get out of the saddle. But Glorfindel lifted him down and helped him to sit in the shade of the trees.

“Please,” he whispered. “Take out the plug.”

“Shh,” was all Glorfindel said.

Maeglin looked as though he wanted to weep when he was helped back into the saddle a short while later. At some point it began to rain, so Glorfindel wrapped his cloak over them both. It nearly completely covered them, and the golden lord took advantage of it, slipping his hand into the back of Maelgin’s trousers, ordering the smaller elf to hold the reins.

His skin was still hot from the whipping, and Glorfindel cupped his asscheeks with his palms. “Perhaps I will rube a soothing balm into your skin,” he whispered.

“Please.”

He rested his chin on Maeglin’s head, twisting the plug inside him. Maeglin tensed. “If you are very good,” he said softly. “I will soothe you tonight.”

Finally, they made camp. Maeglin didn’t even wait for the tents to be set up, pulling Glorfindel into a copse of trees. “Take it out, my lord, please,” he begged.

Glorfindel chuckled, running his hands through Maeglin’s hair. “Oh little mole, I should leave you like this more often.”

“Please!”

“Bend over.”

Maeglin barely spared a glance to make sure they weren’t being watched before bending over and slipping his pants down far enough to bare his ass. Glorfindel leisurely fiddled with the plug, twisting it this way and that until he finally pulled it out.

Then he yanked up Maeglin’s pants, pulled him upright by his dark hair, and swatted his backside. “Come to my tent after nightfall.”

When Maeglin came to him that evening, Glorfindel welcomed him into the tent, pulling him into his arms and rocking him gently. He stripped him, then rubbed a cooling salve into his bruised flesh, pressing kisses up and down his thighs.

“Sleep,” he murmured once Maeglin was sufficiently relaxed. “I will hold you.” 


End file.
